Billy's Story
by That G33Ky Girl
Summary: When Billy invited himself to dinner with Dr. Grant and the Kirbys, he had no idea that one simple meal would turn into an adventure that would nearly cost him his life
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Pretty please?**

**When I invited myself to dinner with Dr. Grant and the Kirbys, I had no idea that that simple meal would turn into an adventure that would nearly cost me my life.**

"**Can you fly one of these?" Alan asked me, referring to the parasail we had just found hanging from a tree, the half-eaten body of a man still strapped in. I eyed it skeptically. "Maybe," I said. "As long as the sail's not torn." Alan knew that one of my major hobbies was hang gliding and I didn't think that parasailing could be that different. Probably. Suddenly, I had a feeling that I was going to need it, for some reason or another. A shiver of dread crept down my spine. I also had a feeling that I might not make it out of that alive.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Pretty please?**

**When the Pteranodon took off with Eric, I didn't stop to think, I just did what I had to do. In the short time we had been together, we had sort of connected. It might just have been that we were the two youngest members of the group, but we understood each other on an almost profound level. He reminded me of myself at that age, curious and independent, smart but not one to show it off. I had the parasail in my backpack, ready for use. Before anyone could figure out what I was about to do or try to stop me, I was gone, running up onto a balcony, ready to go. Alan guessed what I was up to and ran after me yelling, "Don't! Stop, Billy!" I turned and made eye contact with him one last time, buckling the safety belt of the parasail around my waist. "Don't, Billy!" he yelled just as I jumped, pulling the release cord, freeing the parasail from its pack. There was a fearful, gleeful sensation of falling, then flight, as the parasail captured the air and took me toward Eric, trapped on the rocky pinnacles with the baby Pteranodons. **

**I was at the mercy of the wind, but it seemed to be on my side today, pushing me swiftly toward the cliffs. The kid was doing an admirable job of trying to defend himself, throwing rocks, skulls, anything he could find at the ravenous Pteranodons. I could only pray that he understood my plan and was ready to do what was necessary to save his life. "Eric!" I shouted, trying to get his attention of a moment. "Eric!" He looked up and saw me and our eyes met, his scared brown eyes meeting my own determined hazel. "Jump!" I shouted. I sailed by, and he jumped, grabbing his arms tight around my waist, holding on for dear life. Literally. If he fell now, we were too far above the too shallow water for him to survive, at least not without some severe injuries. Eric held on tightly as we flew far above the river. He looked over my shoulder, keeping an eye out for any angry Pteranodon mothers, since all my energy was focused on simply keeping us in the air. The broad sail of the parasail was almost too broad for the narrow walls of the canyon. I knew that if we brushed up against one of those rocky walls too hard, puncturing the sail, we would almost certainly fall and probably die. "Billy!" Eric shouted, evidently seeing Pteronodons approaching from behind. The first flew by, pecking at my legs with its long beak. It hurt, but the cut was not fatal. The next was not so harmless. It flew over us, putting two neat holes about six inches apart in our parasail. Bad news for us. I knew that we were going to have to get away from the sail, before it crashed and took us down with it. Already it was much harder to control. I looked down and noticed that the river beneath us was much deeper than it had previously been. It was as safe as it could possibly be for Eric to let go. I had to get him to safety. "Let go!" I shouted to him. He looked up at me, scared probably of letting go, off falling. Sometimes, though, you have to let go. He hadn't learned that yet. "Now!" I shouted again and he let go, falling about twenty feet into the water. **

**I was immensely relieved to see his soaking wet head pop up from under the water again, spraying water from his wet hair, blinking it from his eyes. I hoped the pteranodons would follow me and leave Eric alone. Now I could focus my attention on getting myself out of here. I soared along a while further, the parasail getting harder and harder to control with its two puncture holes. Finally, as though giving up on me, it hooked itself over an outcropping and refused to let go. My momentum slammed me into the side of the cliff. I tried to jerk the sail free of the rocks, but to no avail. I was well and truly stuck there. I glanced down. The water here was much shallower than where I had dropped Eric, but I would have to take a chance before the flying dinosaurs got to me, hanging helplessly in the air. I unbuckled my harness as fast as my hands could go, and dropped into the river, narrowly missing a large rock. The river was icy cold and shallower even than I had previously thought. It was a miracle that I hadn't broken any bones, dropping from that height into a couple of feet of water. I got up and ran, trying to get out of the terribly exposed section of river. The Pteranodons seemed to know what I was headed for and headed me off, diving down at me, attacking again and again, their claws and beaks tearing bleeding holes in me. One grabbed me by the back of my shirt and lifted me, struggling fiercely all the while, into the air, where it promptly dropped me back into the shallow water. I landed with a splash, trying to ignore the pain of a possibly broken ankle and numerous scratches and cuts. I was distantly aware of Alan and Mr. Kirby running through the water towards me, presumably trying to save me. I stood up, flinging water out of my eyes, only to be driven underwater again by the ruthless Pteranodons. One hit me in the back and knocked me down again, leaving fresh claw-marks down my back. I struggled to regain my balance and saw Alan and Mr. Kirby. I couldn't let them sacrifice themselves for me. "Get away!" I shouted, trying to make them understand that if they helped me, they would die too. I couldn't let that happen. I continued to shout while the vicious dinosaurs attacked, shoving my head underwater. Even after I was underwater, the Pteranodons continued pecking at me, keeping me there. Soon, everything faded out. Faded out in a haze of red, which later, I realized was blood. My blood. I only hoped they all got out of there safely. Especially Alan and Eric. Maybe my sacrifice would make it up to him for my stupidity earlier. I hoped he heard my silent apology. **_**Make it off this island**_**, I mutely implored them, **_**Go live your lives, for me. I'm sorry, Alan.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Pretty please?**

**I floated downriver, semiconscious, in a haze of pain and blood. I couldn't focus properly. I was distantly aware of numerous bleeding wounds all over my body, but I couldn't seem to do anything to help myself. I saw something floating off to my left. I slowly and painfully turned my head, trying to figure out what it was. Alan's hat, miraculously unharmed, floating down the river with me. I reached out with a bleeding arm and grabbed it, clutching tight to my chest. I was determined not to let go of it. I needed to return it to its owner. I made that my major mission in life. It was a childish fancy; if I returned Alan's hat to him, everything would be alright. I had to hang onto that hat. If I lost it, then all was lost. Suddenly I was aware of a new sound. Water, but a different sort of water than I was lying in. Waves, I thought. A different smell, too. Saltwater. I was close to the ocean. I couldn't wash out to sea; I had to stay here on land. I looked around, painfully, aware of dried blood cracking in various wounds. I dragged my bloodied body over to the side of the river. That small action cost me the last of my strength. Through the fog of pain and exhaustion, I was distantly aware of a man standing over me, asking something. I was too tired to answer him. Why couldn't he leave me alone? Just let me sleep… please, just let me be… leave me alone. Everything was getting darker. No, that couldn't be right; it was still in the afternoon. Why was everything so fuzzy? Why couldn't I focus on what the man wanted to ask me? It was important, I could tell. A name caught my rapidly blacking out attention. Alan. Alan Grant. That name meant something. Something connected to the hat I held tight in my hand. Something important. I had to tell them something. Alan. Alan needed their help. Had to tell them… **

**The next time I regained consciousness, my mind was clearer, though I wasn't sure where I was. It wasn't where I had last passed out, of that I was sure. I was lying on my back, covered with a thin, but warm blanket. The next thing I knew was that my ragged shirt was gone, my wounds bandaged, and I wasn't in as much pain as before. Before it had been like I had been dropped into a pit of boiling lava. Now, I was being dropped into a pit of lukewarm lava. Still very painful, but not as agonizingly so as before. I thought I was in a helicopter. The sound of the chopper blades was very loud and close. Some people got in and I just sort of stared past them, wondering where this helicopter was and how I had gotten there. A medic was looking at the deep cut on my forehead. I ignored him, trying to figure out what had happened. My memory was slowly piecing itself together. There had been a man before. He mentioned Alan's name. Just as I thought of him, someone said his name. "Dr. Grant," the man who was out of my line of sight. Turning my head to see him seemed out of the question. "Is this man with you?" Somebody moved into my sight. It was Alan. I turned my head slightly to see him better. He came around and looked at me closely, seemingly in shock that I was still alive. I smiled in recognition. "Hey," I said weakly, "You made it." All my prayers had been answered. It was all worth it after all. He nodded, still shocked at my condition. "Yeah," he said finally. I had something to give him something, something important. I felt the hat gripped tightly in my left hand. I had forgotten all about it. "I rescued your hat," I said hoarsely, handing it to him. He stared at it, as if it was a totally foreign object. He probably thought it was gone for good. That hat had been places with him, I knew. To Isla Nublar the first time. It needed to be returned. It was a part of Alan Grant, one that couldn't be lost. He took it from me and I noticed that his hands were trembling. "Dr. Grant," someone shouted over the roar of the chopper engines, probably trying to get him to buckle up and sit down. "Well," Alan said, attempting a feeble joke, "That's the important thing." I grinned weakly. That same somebody who kept trying to get Alan to sit down spoke up again, asking him to sit and buckle up. Before he left he patted me on the most uninjured part of my shoulder reassuringly and I watched him walk back to his seat. Then my eyes sought out Eric. Where was he? Had he even survived the whole trip? I was relieved to find him sitting in a seat close to me, grinning at me delightedly. Somebody was glad to see me. Looking around, he mouthed, "Thank you," at me. I nodded at him, in a way of saying, "You're welcome. Anytime." I closed my eyes tiredly. Still, I couldn't help but feel that the survival of this many had something to do with that hat. That stupid, stupid hat had gotten us through it. Gotten me through it. As stupid as I felt doing it, I said a silent thank you to the hat. Just in case.**


End file.
